


Squeakity Squeak

by Kuukkeli



Series: Pets & Playtimes [3]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, MTMTE, Master/Pet, Pet Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-29
Updated: 2015-11-29
Packaged: 2018-05-03 23:34:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5311316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kuukkeli/pseuds/Kuukkeli
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Squeak.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Squeakity Squeak

As cute as it was to have Drifter gnaw his fingers like a puppy, it wasn’t so cute to perform small, simple repair work on them and repaint them. Sitting at the table, Ratchet sighed as he examined his right index finger, the gray metal visible in tiny areas where the paint had been chewed off. The reason was sitting next to him on the floor, panting happily and those bright blue optics staring back up at him ever so innocently, the white fluffy tail wagging along with the subtle movement of his pet’s hips.

“I should do something about this”, the medic sighed again, his gaze falling from his finger to the white mech, “You definitely need a proper chewing toy.”

A red hand came down to rub behind Drifter’s finial, the younger mech leaning in to the touch, nuzzling the warm palm. A murmuring growl answered Ratchet’s musings and he smiled at that.

“You think so, too? Perhaps that isn’t such a bad idea.”

He fell silent again, immersed by his thoughts before getting up to his feet. “I guess I can come up with something.”

And by ‘I guess I can’ he meant Perceptor. The scientist was aware of the activities that took place behind the closed door of Ratchet and Drifter’s shared hab suite so it wasn’t awkward to go to him and ask. So, the next time he and Drift played, Ratchet would have a little present for his adorable little pet.

\----

The next time came about a week later and once having his pet gear – the tail and the collar – Drift assumed his role as an obedient pet immediately.

Ratchet sat down on the couch and took something from his subspace, something tube-shaped with bulges on both ends and white in color. Whistling to get his pet’s attention, the medic patted on the couch.

Drifter crawled to him and settled between his legs, earning a ‘good boy’ and a gentle stroke across his cheek.

“Look what I got you”, Ratchet said and presented the chewing toy to Drifter.

Drifter sniffed the toy and looked at his master, tilting his head, his left finial pulled back while the other remained erect. What’s that?

A smiled spread on Ratchet’s lips and he chuckled. “Go ahead. It’s yours.”

This time the speedster took the toy in his mouth and gave it a squeeze.

A long, high-pitched noise sounded from the toy and Drifter startled, almost dropping the toy. He hadn’t expected that!

Ratchet gave a warm-sparked laugh and tipped his pet’s head up by the chin with his hand. Yes, Drifter’s fangs showed nicely with the toy in his mouth, a perfect row of flat teeth framed with four longer and four shorted fangs.

“You like it?”

Giving a couple of testing bites – squeak squeeeeeak – Drifter accepted the gift and nudged his head against Ratchet’s leg as a thank you. With that, he retreated to his spot in the berthroom with his new toy.

It was such a pleasure to see his pet so happy. Then again, Drifter never looked sad during their playtimes.

\----

The squeaking was really getting on his nerves, and Ratchet had started rethinking and regretting some of his life choices.

Two hours of non-stop squeaking. Was Drifter never going to tire of that annoying noise?

The white mech found chewing the toy oddly comforting and relaxing and so he made the most of it now that he had the chance. Not that Ratchet would take his toy away from him. He couldn’t do that, he wasn’t _that_ sparkless.

After licking the toy clean of drool, he continued chewing.

Squeak squeak squeak.

Ratchet, on the other hand, in the living room, had his face buried in his hands, cursing himself for going to Perceptor and asking the scientist to make a chewing toy for Drifter. A weary sigh hissed through his vents as he slumped further into the couch.

But he didn’t have the spark to confiscate the blasted toy. Not when Drifter would look at him with his big puppy optics.

Squeak squeak squeak.


End file.
